This year has had moments of tragedy and hilarity and here we are in the homestretch. In under two months I will be free and clear of 2014 : the year that changed me irreversibly. I'd like to think that all the baby / medical / general uterine drama that occurred this year left me with a richer and more complex world view, a wisdom, a maturity, a deepened connection to womanhood, and a heightened empathy. I think at least some of those things are in part true, but that's not what this post is about. You'll have to wait for my New Years post or something for those kinds of genuine sentiments.
Right now what I can't stop laughing to myself about is the ways in which this year has made me even more ridiculous of a person than I already was. There are things this year made me do (it made me do it! I had no choice!) that are neurotic and hilarious and bizarre. In the interest of having a sense of humor about the tough things we go through and the ways they wedge themselves into our lives, here is a little list in the tradition of my early "fun" Friday miscarriage blog posts.
(A. yes i did just used "fun" as an adjective describing miscarriage posts, and B. for those of you who have been following me since those days : THANK YOU. And I'm sorry. And I love you):
Right now what I can't stop laughing to myself about is the ways in which this year has made me even more ridiculous of a person than I already was. There are things this year made me do (it made me do it! I had no choice!) that are neurotic and hilarious and bizarre. In the interest of having a sense of humor about the tough things we go through and the ways they wedge themselves into our lives, here is a little list in the tradition of my early "fun" Friday miscarriage blog posts.
(A. yes i did just used "fun" as an adjective describing miscarriage posts, and B. for those of you who have been following me since those days : THANK YOU. And I'm sorry. And I love you):
Ways That This Year Has Considerably Upped My Level of (Lovable?) Zaniness:
1. I talk without flinching about my uterus to anyone who seems remotely interested (ditto to those who don't). I no longer have any sense that it's not an entirely normal thing to talk about. I might as well be discussing the weather.
2. I purchase teas that are supposed to support the female reproductive system but never end up drinking them.
3. There have been several distinct occasions where I have stared into my kittens eyes and literally gotten choked up at the thought that this tiny little thing needs me desperately (She on the other hand is probably just wondering why my face is so close to hers).
4. I sporadically take prenatal vitamins in an epic subconscious push-pull between preparing for a baby and rejecting the idea.
5. I am no longer squeamish about pretty much any body function. Particularly of the female variety. I've seen and felt it all and it's not cute and I'm willing to laugh about that because what else can we do?
6. I track my cycle on a phone app that has little icons to indicate symptoms. One is a tiny fork that indicate "tender breasts". I mean. What??
7. I carry a tiny satchel of precious stones and crystals around with me in my purse. I purchased them at a hippie store in Cape Cod. They are supposed to be healing me. Maybe they are. (and for those of you who know me well, ok, maybe we can't fully blame the miscarriage for this type of flower-child behavior)
8. Instead of simply unsubscribing from the army of baby-related junk email I still get, I play this little game where I try to delete them faster than I can read what they are selling me and the baby they think I've had by this point.
9. Every time I eat raw fish, unpasteurized cheeses, or drink wine I do it with a new level of defiance and acute enjoyment as if I'm taking a dramatic political stand. Take that! I'm not even a little pregnant and I do what I want!
10. I keep one of my positive pregnancy tests from December in my bedside table drawer. I can't bring myself to throw it out even though I have largely made peace with what happened to me. It just feels like an anthropological relic of something I always want to remember was real. I would at this point like to apologize to my best friend who I lead to believe I threw it out. I didn't. I took it out of the garbage after you left like a lunatic. (However he is the one to whom my lunacy is the least shocking I'm quite certain.)
And arguably the craziest of them all : I share my inner most thoughts and fears about miscarriage and pregnancy on the internet every single Tuesday because I don't want you to think you're the only one who has them!! You're not crazy! Your sister or aunt or mother or best friend or colleague who had a miscarriage and got you interested in reading this blog is not crazy (or if she is, you can take comfort in the fact that she's in good company!). Whatever silliness has crept into your life as a means of adapting to this pain that no human should have to feel falls under the category of survival. I wear all this ridiculousness like a badge of honor. Keep laughing, keep moving, keep surviving one day at a time.
1. I talk without flinching about my uterus to anyone who seems remotely interested (ditto to those who don't). I no longer have any sense that it's not an entirely normal thing to talk about. I might as well be discussing the weather.
2. I purchase teas that are supposed to support the female reproductive system but never end up drinking them.
3. There have been several distinct occasions where I have stared into my kittens eyes and literally gotten choked up at the thought that this tiny little thing needs me desperately (She on the other hand is probably just wondering why my face is so close to hers).
4. I sporadically take prenatal vitamins in an epic subconscious push-pull between preparing for a baby and rejecting the idea.
5. I am no longer squeamish about pretty much any body function. Particularly of the female variety. I've seen and felt it all and it's not cute and I'm willing to laugh about that because what else can we do?
6. I track my cycle on a phone app that has little icons to indicate symptoms. One is a tiny fork that indicate "tender breasts". I mean. What??
7. I carry a tiny satchel of precious stones and crystals around with me in my purse. I purchased them at a hippie store in Cape Cod. They are supposed to be healing me. Maybe they are. (and for those of you who know me well, ok, maybe we can't fully blame the miscarriage for this type of flower-child behavior)
8. Instead of simply unsubscribing from the army of baby-related junk email I still get, I play this little game where I try to delete them faster than I can read what they are selling me and the baby they think I've had by this point.
9. Every time I eat raw fish, unpasteurized cheeses, or drink wine I do it with a new level of defiance and acute enjoyment as if I'm taking a dramatic political stand. Take that! I'm not even a little pregnant and I do what I want!
10. I keep one of my positive pregnancy tests from December in my bedside table drawer. I can't bring myself to throw it out even though I have largely made peace with what happened to me. It just feels like an anthropological relic of something I always want to remember was real. I would at this point like to apologize to my best friend who I lead to believe I threw it out. I didn't. I took it out of the garbage after you left like a lunatic. (However he is the one to whom my lunacy is the least shocking I'm quite certain.)
And arguably the craziest of them all : I share my inner most thoughts and fears about miscarriage and pregnancy on the internet every single Tuesday because I don't want you to think you're the only one who has them!! You're not crazy! Your sister or aunt or mother or best friend or colleague who had a miscarriage and got you interested in reading this blog is not crazy (or if she is, you can take comfort in the fact that she's in good company!). Whatever silliness has crept into your life as a means of adapting to this pain that no human should have to feel falls under the category of survival. I wear all this ridiculousness like a badge of honor. Keep laughing, keep moving, keep surviving one day at a time.
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